User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 32
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Thirty-Two "I suppose that is rather the Thestral in the middle of the room." "Professor McGonagall?" It still sounded strange to Minerva nearly a week after she had officially occupied the title. "Yes, Miss"—Minerva had to search her mind for the name—"Baddock? What is it?" "Something's happened to my Transfiguration book." "Yes?" "It ... um ... got Transfigured. Into this." The girl held out a peculiar-looking blob that might have been vaguely square if it could have been said to hold any shape at all. "I see. And how did it get Transfigured into ... a cushion, if I'm not very much mistaken?" Minerva asked, trying not to smile. "I was practicing the spell in chapter seventeen—the one for changing books—and I can't get it to change back." Minerva withdrew her wand, pointed it at the erstwhile book, and said, "Mutatio Caudici!" The strange blob in the student's hand instantly became a copy of Intermediate Transfiguration once more. "Thank you, Professor!" "You're welcome. But next time, Miss Baddock, perhaps it would be wise to attempt your Transfiguration on an object other than the book in which the counter-spell is found." The girl nodded sheepishly and turned to go. "Miss Baddock?" Emily turned, and Minerva said, "It's a very difficult Transfiguration, you know, changing books. Don't feel too bad about not managing it on the first try. I don't believe Professor Dumbledore will teach it until the end of the year." "No, Professor. I've just read ahead a bit and thought I would give it a try. I'm sorry." "Never be sorry for wanting to learn more. It's an admirable impulse, but do try to exercise caution when moving ahead of your class. A few of the spells in this book can be hazardous if performed incorrectly. Please feel free to come to me if you have any questions about any of them. All right?" "Yes, Professor. Thank you, Professor!" Emily said, then scurried off down the corridor with her book under her arm. A voice from behind Minerva said, "An ambitious young lady, Miss Baddock. She reminds me a bit of you." Minerva turned to see Albus smiling at her with the look of a satisfied teacher. "You're thinking of the time I Transfigured the entire 'Medieval Potions' section of the library into blank sheets of parchment, aren't you?" "Have you added Legilimency to your roster of accomplishments?" he asked, and she thought momentarily of their long-ago conversation on the topic. She wondered if he remembered it too. "No. But it is hard to forget how long it took me to change all those books back." "It was a long four hours," Albus said. "But instructive for you, I think. By the end of it, you had both mastered the spell and learnt something about controlling your magic." "Indeed. Although at the time I was furious with you for making me do it all when you could have accomplished it in a few minutes." "Not as furious as Madam Phalereus. She gave me the gimlet eye for weeks afterwards." "I don't doubt it. Anyway, I was relieved to find she'd moved on. I didn't relish having her stare me down in staff meetings." "Yes," said Albus, chuckling. "I was rather relieved myself when she decided to retire." "I had tea in the staff room with Madam Pince yesterday," said Minerva. "She's quiet—well, I suppose you'd expect that in a librarian—but an interesting woman, I think." "Yes, still waters and all that. And like her predecessor, she does run a tight ship." "That's good. Nobody wants a library in disarray." "Indeed," agreed Albus. "Speaking of tea, I was just coming to find you to invite you for tea in my office this afternoon. I'd like to know how you think your first week has gone." "That would be lovely, thank you, Professor." "Excellent! I'll see you at four-thirty, then." Minerva knocked on the Headmaster's office door at four-thirty-seven, and when he admitted her, she bustled in, saying, "I'm sorry I'm late, Professor. There was a bit of a skirmish near the east staircase, and I stopped to help Professor Slughorn sort it out." "No worries, my dear." When Minerva had arrived at Hogwarts the past Friday, she and Albus had still been uncomfortably formal with one another. Over the week that followed, however, they had quickly become more at ease as she worked alongside him in his—soon to be her—Transfiguration classes, and after classes, using what little time he had to spare in going over curriculum and lesson plans. Although they still called one another by their formal titles, he had fallen back into his habit of using terms of endearment when speaking to her. She noticed that he did the same with some of the other witches who had been on staff for some time, but not with the newer staff, like Irma Pince or Frida Thorsun, the Ancient Runes mistress Armando Dippet had engaged the year before his death. He gestured for her to sit at the small table near the fireplace, and as he poured the tea, adding a splash of milk to hers without asking, she had a moment of overwhelming nostalgia for the afternoon teas they had had together when he was teaching her—the teas that always held the promise of more. She shut her eyes momentarily and gripped the arms of her chair to steady herself, hoping he wouldn't notice. She smiled at the three lumps of sugar he dropped into his tea as he took the chair next to her rather than the one across the table. "So, how do you think your first week went?" he asked. "Well enough. It's a great deal to take in, of course, but it's been most helpful to spend the week observing you. And you've been very kind to go over your lesson plans with me." "It's my pleasure, my dear. I know it can't be easy to take over classes in the middle of the term using a lesson plan someone else has made. And do feel free to change things if you find they don't make sense to you." "I will, thank you." "It's been such a help having you in the classroom this past week. I don't know how I ever managed without you before." "I'm more concerned about how I will manage without you next week." "Nervous?" he asked, his lips curving upward in a sympathetic smile. "A bit," she confessed. "That's quite natural. But I have no doubt you'll do swimmingly. As you do everything else." She felt the flush rise in her cheeks and felt like a schoolgirl all over again. He peered at her for a moment, no doubt noticing the blush, before he asked, "And how are you making out at Charity's?" "Fine. It was good of her to let me the room." "She's had several lodgers since Charles moved away." "Charles?" "Her son." "Oh. He must be the young man in the pictures in her parlour." "I daresay he is." "I didn't see any of her husband," said Minerva. "I assume I shouldn't ask her about him?" She hoped Albus knew she wasn't being nosy; she just wanted to be certain not to offend her former teacher and current landlady, either by asking or not asking after her husband. "Probably not," he answered. "In point of fact, she never married." "Oh." "Are you surprised?" "A bit. Oh, not that she had a child out of wedlock—it's hardly unheard of—but it's just that ... well, one doesn't think of one's teachers as having love affairs." She had a sudden, appalling thought. "Unless it wasn't by choice." "Oh, it was a love affair. An unhappy one, if what little I know of it is any indication. He was a Muggle, and it didn't work out. Charity was left with Charles. And did very well by him, I might add." "Of course." "As for teachers not having love affairs," he said softly, "I think you know that's not true." There. It was out. "Yes." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I suppose that is rather the Thestral in the middle of the room. Were you surprised to get my application for the post?" "Yes. Surprised and delighted. I wouldn't have thought you'd want to work with me after what I did to you." "To tell the truth, I almost didn't send my enquiry. Not because I didn't want to work with you, but because I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. I was afraid you might think ... well ... that I was chasing you, or some such, after all these years." "No, not at all." "Good. And I don't consider that you did anything to me, Albus," she said, using his given name for the first time in twelve years. "If there were ... transgressions ... they were mutual. I have no regrets. I hope that you do not, either." "No." "I'm glad," she said, accepting what they both knew was a lie. Breaking the momentary silence, he said, "Well, I expect your tea has got cold by now. May I?" "Yes, thank you." He Vanished the lukewarm tea and refilled her cup, once again adding a dollop of milk. "I am very glad to have you here, Minerva," he said. "Not only because I think you'll make an excellent teacher, but because I value the chance to win your friendship again." "You've always had that, Albus." "Have I? I thought you were terribly angry with me—and rightfully so." "I was. For a time. But one gets over these things. When you broke with me, you said you hoped always to be my friend. I thought at the time they were just empty words, but as I got older, I understood better. After I got over being angry, being hurt, I found I wanted that too. I've missed you, missed your friendship." "Have you forgiven me, then, Minerva?" "There's nothing to forgive. You did what you felt was best at the time. I knew you were trying to protect me, even if I was angry about it." "Yes, but I should never have acted upon my feelings for you as I did. That was the truly unforgivable thing. Now that you are older—and a teacher—I'm sure you understand that." Yes, she understood it now. But she only answered, "As I said, I have no regrets, Albus." He was close to her, only an arm's length away, looking searchingly at her face, and she felt a moment of panic, imagining him closing the gap and kissing her, so she said, "Anyway, I consider our accounts settled. After all, you have given me a job." He snapped out of his momentary trance. "And one in which I think you'll do very well, my dear." He seemed relieved at the change of direction. "I hope you don't feel I'm insulting you in keeping my O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. classes this year." "Not at all. They've begun with you, and with so much at stake for them, I think it makes sense for them to continue with you through the exams." "That was my reasoning as well," he said. "So, do you have any worries about going solo next week?" "Some, I suppose. I don't think I'll have any difficulty keeping the younger classes in line, but I do wonder about the fourth-years. They've been with you since the beginning, and I'm sure some of them will resent a new teacher coming in at this late date." "I think most of them will settle down easily. A few of the boys may test you a little, I think." "Yes, I expect so." "Bilius Weasley can usually be counted upon to liven up the classroom, but he's a decent lad and should buckle down for you in time. If he seems especially lively, have him turn out his pockets for you. He finds himself somewhat hobbled without his supply of Dungbombs." "I'll remember that, thank you." In truth, she wasn't concerned about the likes of Bilius Weasley. He struck her as a bit of a hellion, but a good-natured one who could be subdued with the arch of an imperious eyebrow. More worrisome was the fourth-year Slytherin, Rabastan Lestrange. She remembered his uncle, Rufinus, who had been at school with her, as one of Tom Riddle's toadies, and the boy appeared to Minerva to be just as unpleasant and disturbing as his uncle. She had caught him staring at her more than once as she moved through the Transfiguration classroom, and on one occasion, he had caught her eye and given her the most insolent smile, letting his tongue snake out briefly across his lips for good measure. While she wasn't afraid of the boy, she was afraid of the effect he and one or two others could have on her classroom. Albus seemed to know what she was thinking. "As for some of the others, I don't think you need worry too much. You are a very powerful, accomplished witch. A gentle reminder of that fact, should things get out of hand, will put them all firmly in their places." "Thank you, Albus." He smiled and offered, "More tea?" She glanced at the Muggle clock on the wall. "Goodness, no, thank you. I'll need to be getting on. I'm meeting a friend for dinner this evening, and I don't want to be late." She wasn't sure if it was really a frown she saw briefly cross his features or simply wishful thinking on her part, but she immediately regretted her disclosure. She didn't want him to think she had a date. "Well," he said, standing, "I should let you go, then." She stood as well. "Thank you for the tea. It was nice to have the chance to talk with you a bit. About everything." "Yes, it was nice. Shall I walk you to the Apparition point?" "Thank you, but no need. I'll see you Monday, then." "Monday, my dear." When Minerva arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Amelia was already at a table near the fireplace, a glass of wine in her hand. They greeted one another, and Minerva ordered a Chablis as the two perused the menu. "To Professor McGonagall," Amelia said, raising her glass to Minerva. "Thank you. I still can't quite get used to the title." The two women chatted, and Minerva told Amelia a bit about her first week. When she voiced her concerns about Rabastan Lestrange, Amelia made a face. "A bad lot, that family," she said. "We had his father, Romulus, up on charges for torturing a house-elf a few years back, but he managed to weasel out of it. Nobody would cop to having seen it, even though it got reported." Minerva gave a glum sigh. Nobody seemed to care much when people mistreated their elves, so it was surprising that charges were even filed against Romulus Lestrange. It was less surprising that they couldn't find anyone to testify against him. "Anyway, I'm not looking forward to facing Rabastan and a class full of fourth-year Slytherins first thing Monday morning," said Minerva. "May I make a suggestion?" "Be my guest." "Try putting your hair up." "What?" "You know ... schoolteacher style. All that lovely dark hair down your back ... it makes you look young and attractive. You might want to be less so for a class full of teenagers with raging hormones." "It's a good idea." "Speaking of young and attractive, is there anyone interesting up there at Hogwarts?" "Oh, Amelia," said Minerva. "It isn't ... I'm not ..." "What? You haven't had a date since I don't know when. I'm just wondering if there are any prospects up there at that school, since you're going to be stuck at Professor Burbage's place, at least for the next few months. I can't imagine she's got a slew of eligible wizards coming through her parlour on a regular basis." "No," said Minerva, thinking of what Albus had told her about Charity Burbage earlier. "But don't be unkind, Amelia. It was good of her to offer me the room on short notice." "Sorry. It's just that I can't help remembering all those boring hours in her class." "I didn't think Muggle Studies was that dull. And Einar loved it, obviously." "Oh, I meant to tell you, I ran into your brother the other day in Inverness." "Did you?" "Yes. I was up there supervising some trainees who were investigating an accident involving Muggles—nothing too serious, and it looks like it really was an accident," Amelia said when she saw Minerva's worried look. "Einar was the liaison officer in charge of the clean-up. We had lunch afterwards. He sends his love and wants to know when you're coming to see Morrigan." "He could write to me himself, of course," said Minerva drily. "Anyway, I'll owl him tomorrow. Maybe I can get to Inverness next weekend. Morrigan must be getting big." "I imagine so. I told him I'd come by next Saturday, so maybe we can go together. Safety in numbers, eh?" said Amelia. "What do you mean?" "Babies scare me." "Oh, Amelia!" Minerva laughed. "What?" "It's funny: head of the Auror training programme afraid of a three-month-old!" "It's just that they're so little, and so moist!" said Amelia. "Aye, they are that. Saturday sounds fine, but I have to be back by six. I'm on the schedule to attend dinner at Hogwarts that evening. Each staff member has to attend once a week, to give each of the Heads of House an evening free." "I don't envy you, stuck up there with all those children." Minerva cocked an amused eyebrow. "Well, I haven't had to change any nappies yet, Amelia." Their meals arrived just then, and the two witches tucked in. Between bites of her steak and kidney pie, Amelia said, "You never answered my question." "What?" "Are there any interesting men up there at Hogwarts?" "Not really. A lot of the same from school, actually: Slughorn, Beery, Kettleburn—he was there when you were at Hogwarts, wasn't he?" Amelia nodded, and Minerva continued: "Hagrid and Pringle, of course—" "Pringle? I don't know him." "Oh, right, you wouldn't. He's the caretaker. Started in my sixth year, I think. Anyway, he's not my type. The only new fellows I've met are Julian Meadowes, the Defence teacher, and Diophantus Lemmas, who teaches Arithmancy. Oh, and Flitwick." "Filius Flitwick? The duellist?" asked Amelia, surprised. "Yes, he's Charms master and Deputy Head—don't you read the Prophet?" "I must have missed that. He reffed one of the duelling matches when I was at school," said Amelia. "Not the year I won, though," she added. "Yes, he did us three times, I think," said Minerva, the unpleasant memory of her final duelling match at Hogwarts flitting uncomfortably through her memory. "Anyway, he's very nice. I hope to get the chance to do a little duelling with him. Professor Meadowes—he runs the club now—wants us to give some demonstrations." "You duelling Flitwick? We'd better get back to our Sunday practice, then." She and Minerva had met on Sundays over the years to spar. Although neither witch had cause to use their duelling skills in their work, both enjoyed the exercise and liked keeping their abilities honed. They had abandoned the practice over the past two months, as Minerva had been working long hours to try to wrap up her work at Mallory College before starting at Hogwarts. "I'd like that," said Minerva. "So, what about those other two fellows you mentioned. Meadowes and what's-his-name?" "Diophantus Lemmas. I think—although I'm not certain—that he's a confirmed bachelor. And Julian Meadowes is married, I believe." "What about Dumbledore?" asked Amelia. "What about him?" "Do you still fancy him?" "Please, Amelia," Minerva protested, hoping nobody around them was listening. "He's my superior." "True. And I suppose he is a bit long in the tooth." "He isn't," Minerva objected, then added quickly, "I mean, yes, he's probably too old for me, but he's hardly an old man." Amelia eyed Minerva with a small smile, and Minerva had the feeling her friend knew exactly what was going on in her head. Amelia said, "Well, it sounds like you won't have much luck up there." "I didn't take the post to find a lover, Amelia." "No. But you wouldn't say no if one fell in your lap, would you?" "No," Minerva admitted. "I wouldn't." "What about Alastor? He's single again, or so I hear." Minerva gave a short laugh. "Alastor wouldn't be interested in taking up with me again. Especially now that I'm a teacher, of all blessed things." "Don't be so sure of that. He mentions your name quite a lot, you know. There might still be a spark there." "Alastor and I were a disaster. We fought too much." "Yes, but making up can be a lot of fun, right? Minerva couldn't suppress a smile. "Yes, the making up was quite pleasant." "'Quite pleasant'? My, you really have turned into a schoolteacher, haven't you?" "Oh, stop it," said Minerva, laughing with her. ~oOo~ Albus stepped into the Hog's Head, nodding at the two characters sitting in the half-shadows when they acknowledged the tall wizard's presence. He headed to the bar and, leaning over it, selected a bottle of cheap Firewhisky and two glasses. He fished a few Sickles out of a pouch in his pocket and was about to leave them on the bar when Aberforth appeared from the back. Aberforth eyed him for a moment, then, recognising his brother under the glamour that made him look like a clean-shaven, nondescript ash-blonde, said quietly, "Yer late. Yer man's upstairs." "Thank you." Albus headed up the back staircase to the small room in which he was to meet his contact. When their meeting had finished, Albus was nearly tempted to down the Firewhisky he had poured in his glass out of courtesy rather than any intention to drink it. His contact, Mortimer Borgin, had relayed disturbing news. It seemed that a small group of men had been gathering in his father's Knockturn Alley shop evenings to discuss plans for stirring up the latent Muggle-hatred that always seemed to simmer around the edges of pure-blood wizarding society. There had been whispers, Borgin said, of a leader recently returned from abroad. Mortimer Borgin had never seen this "Voldemort", as he was apparently called, but Albus had an idea as to his identity, which he did not share with Borgin. "Not large," Borgin answered when Albus asked him how big the group was. "But I recognised a few of them: Avery, Lestrange, Nott, Macnair. There were five or six others last time." When Borgin took his leave, Albus thanked him and told him to stay safe. He used his wand to reseal the bottle of Firewhisky and gave it to the young man, who slipped it into his large pocket without comment. Albus was thinking about what action, if any, he ought to pursue, when he heard the door open. "Bad news?" Aberforth asked, quirking his chin at Albus's untouched glass of whisky. "Worrying news," replied Albus. "Blackrobes?" "Something like them, it seems." "Tossers." Albus didn't say anything, and Aberforth sat on the chair opposite and put his booted feet up on the table between them. "I hear you've got a new teacher up there at your school," he said, and Albus could tell from his tone that his brother was about to try to have some unpleasant fun with him. "Yes," he said. He was too tired for this. "'Professor Minerva McGonagall', the Prophet called her. Seemed to me I'd heard that name somewhere before." "I have no doubt you know exactly who she is, and I have no doubt you have something to say on the subject. Why don't you get it over with so we can both get on with our evening, eh?" Ignoring Albus's unusual show of pique, Aberforth said, "You've got bollocks, I'll give you that, brother o' mine." Albus didn't respond, so Aberforth continued, "Hiring a girl you were screwing back when she was your student." Albus stood to go, Summoning his cloak from the peg in the corner, and headed for the door. "How long d'you reckon it'll take you to get her back into your bed?" Aberforth called after him. Albus stopped for a moment, then said quietly, "I have no intention of trying." "Yeah, but we all know how your intentions have a way of turning out, don't we?" Albus continued out the door without looking at his brother again. ← Back to Chapter 31 On to Chapter 33→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium